Page 54 of Burning Justice

Blame.

He blamed himself for what had happened to her. She was the one who’d been attacked, but ironically, it was she who had the urge to comfort him.

Unable to stop, she touched his face, to stroke his strong jaw and soothe away some of that rage. “There was nothing you could have done,” she said softly, well aware that between the Lakewood PD sergeant, the uniform by the door, and Bonnie sitting next to her, they had quite the audience.

“Yeah, there was,” Brett growled. “I could have killed him before he hurt you.” His jaw went harder.

Gemma let her hand drop, but he caught it. Very gently, he brushed his lips across her knuckles, sending a wave of heat sizzling through her body.

His dark blue gaze met hers and held it. How she wished she could read his mind at that moment. She was no psychiatrist, but the kind of emotion on his face and in his actions surely suggested he cared about her. Didn’t it? If so, was she ready to let someone in again, to trust them with her heart?

His brow furrowed. Abruptly, he released her hand, then touched two fingers to her throat. “Was he wearing gloves?”

She thought back to the moment when she’d first seen her attacker standing in the kitchen doorway. Shock was the first thing she remembered. It had taken a moment for it to sink in that someone was inside her house. For a split second, she’d expected it to be Brett, but it wasn’t.

Involuntarily, she touched her neck like she could still feel his fingers squeezing, choking her. She’d tried prying his fingers away, and yes! “He was wearing gloves!” Until now, she hadn’t remembered. “Not smooth gloves, something rough. How did you know?”

“There’s a mark on your neck—a symbol.” He leaned in. “The more discolored and bruised your neck becomes, the more it shows up.” He took out his phone. “Do you mind?” She shook her head, and he snapped a few close-up photos. “We can look again in the morning.”

Meaning, when her neck was completely discolored and looked like something out of a horror movie. His last statement also implied that he planned to be here in the morning. Did she want him to be?

Gemma watched Brett’s handsome face as he examined the images on his phone.

“It looks vaguely familiar,” he said. “Could be a work glove with a company brand sewn into the thumb.”

He turned his phone toward her, showing her the photos, but she didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Sarge.” The cop by the door hitched his head to the front yard. “Three people coming up the walk.”

Brett’s phone dinged, then he looked at it. “Let them in.” He went to the door.

Bonnie leaned in, whispering, “You didn’t tell me your new partner was so hot. Like ten-out-of-ten hot.” Gemma cringed, praying Sergeant Anderson hadn’t heard. “If I wasn’t already married to the love of my life, eight months pregnant and ready to pop, I’d fight you for him. Ooh, there he goes kicking again.” She rubbed her belly. “This is my last one. Trust me, two is plenty.”

“I’d settle for one,” Gemma mumbled, not really intending to say that out loud, but there it was. She wanted children. Someday.

“It’ll happen for you. You just haven’t met the right guy yet.” Bonnie waggled her eyebrows. “Or maybe you have.”

“Who?” Brett? No. No way. That was way too big a leap to take at the moment.

“Yowza.” Bonnie nudged Gemma’s shoulder as two men she didn’t know came through the front door. “Your house is crawling with hunks. This must be national ten-out-of-ten day, and someone forgot to put it on the calendar!”

Sergeant Anderson made a snorting sound in the back of her throat. “Ma’am, can I get your name?”

As Bonnie gave the sergeant her information, Gemma observed the cluster of alpha males now standing in her living room. The new additions were about the same height as Brett and both equally fit and muscular. They must all suck down the same supplements and work out at the same gym. The Ten-Out-of-Ten Gym for Hunks. Where Brett’s hair was a light, sandy blond, the other men’s were dark brown.

“Step aside, gentlemen.” One of the most beautiful women Gemma had ever seen pushed her way through the crowd of testosterone. Her long, auburn hair, tied up in a ponytail, swayed back and forth as she came to the sofa and set her bag on the floor. Yay, ponytails. Whoever this woman was, she rocked it. “You must be Gemma. I’m Tori Sampson. I work in the ER at North Metro.” She held out her hand for Gemma to shake first, then did the same for Bonnie.

Blaze all but leaped to his feet, his expression one of obvious recognition as he wagged his tail.

“Hiya, Blaze.” Tori gave Blaze a sound petting before turning back to Gemma and sitting next to her on the sofa.

“Sorry about all the sawdust.” Gemma’s gaze swept the room, taking in the construction chaos first, then the state of her attire. Filthy, sweaty, and every bit as chaotic as her house.

She ran a hand down the back of her hair, which had to be a blood-caked rat’s nest by now. Even on her best day, she could never hold a candle to the Tori Sampsons of the world. Tori was the kind of woman she imagined Brett with, not her. Gemma looked like crap, and everyone else in the room knew it. They were only being polite.

“My house looks worse.” Tori gave Gemma a smile, one intended to make her feel less self-conscious.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that would work.